Hymn For The Missing
by Sakura-The-Pimp
Summary: Set in a time before the Uchiha Massacre, this details the life that Shisui and Itachi had before Shisui was killed by Itachi. Love, Angst, Hatred, lust. All of these feelings, rolled into a single fiction. How hard would it be to have Itachi reciprocate this love?
1. The Very First Time

**So I've kinda been on a bit of a ShisuIta binge lately, and I have manage to pull this out of my behind. I'm rather proud of it. I do not own Naruto, or any of the characters mentioned in this story. If I did, I would be rolling in delicious monies and giggling at how successful I am. :3**

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The two Uchiha watched the sunset, and marveled at the colours. The sun drowned in the horizon, the once sharp and near-blinding rays of sunlight diluted, and painted the azure sky with an array of colours; red, gold, peach, and pink. It was certainly a sight to behold. Already, the moon had peeked it's lazy head from behind the clouds.

They sat in a comfortable silence, their eyes just quietly watching the colours merge into one another. Colours that one of the two men would grow to miss; while for the other, it would be their last. The red soon bled into black, and the stars twinkled mockingly over the inky canvas. Finally, Shisui tore his gaze from the open sky, and soon trained it upon Itachi. He was breath-taking. His skin had adopted an erethral and almost ghostly glow that Shisui had never thought possible, though the contrast was striking when his darker features were brought into sight.

But when Shisui dared to peer closer at the raven, if realised that the was something more than a little off… Itachi's once gentle eyes were dark, angry, and bloodshot, and the bright glow of love had smouldered away to nothing, and had been replaced by something… Sinister. It was a sight that sent unpleasant shivers down his spine.

Itachi looked defeated, like a man who had lost direction, or had been told he needed to kill his own flesh and blood.

Even now, Shisui realised that he loved Itachi — loved him more than he should. Not like a brother, but as a lover. He should have cared, but he didn't.

Shisui loved Itachi, and that's all that mattered.

Shisui shifted his hand to rest atop the Raven's, prompting him to look at him questioningly. Shisui would not be met with disappointment, however, as Itachi's hand grasped his own, and turned his head back to face the sky.

With his hair free, the moon's erethral light caused Itachi's hair to adopt an iridesent mirage of colours, the spitting image of a black waterfall cascading down his back. Shisui adored how the younger Uchiha looked with his hair down; it made his handsome features all the more beautiful and delicate. He had been so deep in thought, Shisui hadn't noticed that he had reached out and actually touched it.

Itachi did nothing; didn't swat his hand away, but closed his eyes as the other shinobi ran his fingers through the lavish silk. It felt finer than his mother's most expensive kimono.

Shisui was now aware of his heart rate escalating as his mind was led astray — how did Itachi look in the throes of passion? Was he quiet, or did he scream? Did he claw or grip? Is his skin sweet, or salty? Shisui's Dark eyes finally focused, and brought both hands up to cup his cheeks.

And then he kissed him.

It was magical, the way Itachi's lips connected with his own. It was right, and somehow, among all of the dizziness, something inside him shifted; never to be replaced.

This new and foreign feeling could be dwelled upon later; because for now, he was more than content to feel Itachi's breath come and go with his own.

It was then that the realisation struck him: he used Itachi as a lifeline. Used him to stop himself drowning in anger, and the stress caused by his abusive brother. Itachi had always been there, tending to his wounds with no judgement; very few questions asked.

_Thank you._

Itachi's mouth opened, and his tongue pressed against the swell of Shisui's lower lip; a polite request for entry. Shisui obliged, and gently pressed his torso against the raven to guide him onto his back. Itachi's eager fingers grasped at the back of Shisui's shirt; whispered his name into his mouth. Quiet whispers that were greedily gobbled and stolen by Shisui's eager kisses. His nose brushed lightly against the hollow of his throat, and small kisses were layered over the heated flesh; warm, inviting. He was sweet, Shisui decided, as his tongue slipped out to sneak a taste of the younger Uchiha. Itachi responded with a shiver; pale lips parted to expel desperate breaths.

Shisui slipped between the other's parted thighs, ignoring the heat that building in his already engorged flesh, to pay attention to the male beneath him. But a hand pushed his chest; shoved the older man off of him. Red cheeked, Itachi had stood up and made himself scarce.

He didn't know how much longer he had sat upon that grass; trying to recapture his scattered thoughts, and calm his raging teenage hormones. Why had he run away? Itachi had been so responsive; so stunning beneath him, pink cheeked and flustered... just... why?

Shisui's mind flashed back to the expression the raven had had on his face, and finally recognised it for what it was. It was not loss of love, or hope...

_It was fear._


	2. Alone

It had been three weeks since the woodland incident, and three weeks since Shisui had last seen Itachi. Whenever he had gone to the Raven's house to pay him a visit, he had been turned away with the cliché excuse that his cousin was away on a mission. But every time, as he walked away from Itachi's home, he would pause; turn his head to gaze up towards Itachi's window, just in time to watch the bastard's head disappearing behind the twitching curtains.

Each time it had felt like a kunai had been thrust into his heart; pain he had no care for, but had found it more than difficult to ignore.

The invitation from Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha announcing their annual mid-February dinner would give him the chance to talk to Itachi; to get the answers to the many questions that had plagued his already cluttered mind. Itachi would be forced to attend, and most likely shoved into a corner when Fugaku was finished peacocking the fruit of his loins, his prodigy, and his heir to the rest of the clan. Likely, Shisui would be shoved into the isolated corner long before Itachi, after being issued with a warning about his behaviour, which, at best, was acceptable to be shown in public.

He had never been overly exceptional at anything. Shisui had average grades, a foul mouth, and no matter how much effort he put into his unruly mane of hair, it refused to sit flat, or in any kind of order. After brushing, it looked as though he could have been used as a toilet brush. His hair was something he had long since given up on trying to tame.

The fateful day finally arrived, and Shisui could hardly contain his excitement. He had scrubbed every inch of his skin until it was red raw, and glowing; shaved, primped, and preened... yet left his hair alone. Today would not be the day that he attempted to rake a brush through it. In the absence of his forehead protector, stray curls flopped over his eyes, and he found himself gaily flipping his hair out of his eyes.

_Kami be damned should I get dizzy from this, _he thought sulkily.

On the short walk to the Uchiha's home, Shisui feigned interest in his father's typical lecture on the behaviour expected of him in public, and before he knew it, they were there. It took all of the strength that he could muster not to just leap head first through the doors; seize Itachi's face within his calloused palms and just... kiss him. Shisui wanted to kiss every inch of his face, only for Itachi to point out that he'd missed a spot, and, like a puppy waiting a walk, he would gladly start over again.

However, after a hand had been waved in front of his glazed eyes, he was evicted from his fantasy world when the palm of his father's hand clashed with the back of his curly head, much to the surprise of the four hosts that stood before the unconventional family of three. Shisui's eyes had been trained on Itachi, and had witnessed the younger man flinch as the sharp slap against Shisui's skull but soon replaced it with an expression of casual indifference.

_Well, that certainly hadn't gone to plan._

After the initial greeting process had passed, Itachi was swept off to be shown around like a prized poodle, and not for the first time, Shisui found himself alone in his assigned corner and made his own entertainment. He observed with a purr of amusement as his cousin was shown off like the finest piece of meat. But really, he was worth more than the world's weight in riches; was more beautiful than the stars in the sky, and had managed to capture Shisui's heart in a net from which he could not escape.

The sound of a glass being struck by the blunt side of a knife brought his eyes to where Fugaku was now standing. The room silenced immediately, and the many Uchiha focused their attention onto the head of the clan. "I have an important announcement to make."

_No. Please, no._

The sensation of dread spread through Shisui, as his hand gestured towards Itachi and a foreign woman to his side.

"My son, Uchiha Itachi, is to be married to the daughter of the current Uchiha clan in Sunagakure."

Had the room not exploded into excited applause and chattering, Shisui was sure that the people gathered would have heart his heart shatter into pieces; felt the ground shift beneath their feet as Itachi was finally wrenched from his grip. He stood in the isolated corner where his thoughts roamed; only thoughts of his lost love. Shisui was frozen to the spot, his body shivering in disbelief. The suddenly cold air burned his lungs, the entire room around him silenced, save for the sharp intake of breath to be fed to only his ears. He had to leave – he had to escape from Itachi's polite smile; away from the sight of the sweet kisses he lavished upon that... whore's lips – his kisses! Kisses that belong to him! Shisui shot out from his darkened corner, carelessly shoving a waitress' tray of porcelain cups out of her hands.

Heads turned as the cups fell and shattered, and for the first time of that entire evening, their eyes met.

Itachi's eyes were confused, angry, and sad. Shisui's glowed with resentment and unshed tears. For several long moments, their gazes held, until Itachi tried to excuse himself from the gaggle of fans surrounding the Uchiha prodigy. Shisui fled through the sliding doors to the front of the mansion, and stopped. A single drop of grief welled in the corner of his eye, but he bit is back. It was raining. It seemed as thought the weather knew how he felt on the inside; he ran then. Into the woodlands. The trees were just a grey blur in the night as he sped past then, and skidded to a halt in a clearing. Their clearing.

_Shisui wasn't remotely special. Not. One. Bit._

Then, the dam broke.

Tears, bitter and salty finally fell. His shoulders shook, and the anger and pent-up frustration he had harboured over the weeks prior to this... disgusting and barbaric revelation poured out in loud, desperate wails. Hot tears coursed down his cheeks, soon concealed by the icy rain that had numbed his skin, his racking sobs lost to the high winds that tore at his hair and clothes. He was alone again. The white thread that had connected Shisui to Itachi was now torn; snapped in two.

The one good thing he had had in his lonely world had been swallowed, like a mouthful of hot cum to greedy lips.

Shisui didn't know how long he'd been in the clearing. He didn't know when this throat clawing wails had subsided, and been replaced with hiccups... or when Itachi had arrived and wrapped his arms around his trembling body. Itachi was talking, yet his words were alien, silver tongued whispers from the serpent himself; words murmured into his now soaked hair.

"- You've finally acquired your Sharingan," Itachi whispered, and for the first time since he's arrived, used his index and middle finger to tilt Shisui's face up to his, the two tomoe dominant against the sea of Carmine. Itachi attempted to gently brush wet strands of hair from Shisui's forehead, but was intercepted by the other man's fingers snapping around his wrist; a grip so tight that his knuckled blanched under the pressure.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at your place entertaining your adoring fans, and that... that... SLUT?" he snapped weakly, shoving Itachi's hand away with as much strength as he could muster. Shisui felt Itachi stiffen, and for a fraction of a second, he felt... triumph.

_How could you do this to me? Look me in the eye after plunging a knife into my heart?_

"You've been missing for four days, Shisui."

_Four days? Holy shit._

It was then he finally took notice of his growling stomach, yet he was not thirsty. Had he been gulping down the rain or something? He was tired, so very tired, yet he wouldn't allow his eyes to shut, for fear that he wouldn't open them again. Shisui didn't respond. He just stared.

"How did you find me?"

"You're leaking Chakra – it's untidy and irregular, but it's still yours. Be thankful I found you. Your father's furious... he's beaten your mother black and blue again," he explained gently.

Shisui's heart froze. _Kaa-san. How could I be so selfish?_

"S'pose I'd better go home and get what's coming to me," he mumbled, and staggered unsteadily to his feet. "don't expect me to come to you afterwards. Those days are over." And he staggered off in the direction of his home.

Once more he was alone.

When he was alone, nothing could hurt him but himself.

When Shisui had arrived home, however, the thing he met with was his mother's gentle touched, her desperate kisses warming his numb cheeks... but as usual, it was to be short-lived. Tender touches were replaced with pain, and he took it all in his stride. After all, Shisui was good at nothing; he deserved this. With each punch, each kick, he felt himself breaking; his bones, his muscles, his nerves screaming for release, but it never came. The edges of his sight began to blur, but not before it stopped. Relief flushed through his as his father strode out of the room.

But he returned, the threatening gleam of silver glinting from the blade he clutched in his palm.

_No heroic death for the weak._

"You have disgraced me," he growled, and raised the sword above his head. Shisui flinched as he heard the whirr of the blade slicing through open air, and a dull thunk as is connected with bone. But not his own.

"m'.. Sorry, Shisui..."

Then a weight heavier than he could have ever known, landed atop him. Shisui's eyes flew open, and found his mother curled over him; the katana embedded in her back...

but there would be no tears.

For they had all been wasted on Itachi.

Shisui rose, and clasped his fingers around his father's throat.

"DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU HAVE FUCKING DONE?"

His voice was already hoarse from wailing, but still loud. Just minutes too late, the front door flew open. There Itachi stood, watching Shisui choke his father to a sickening puce.

"Shisui, put him down."

"Fuck off, Itachi. LOOK AT WHAT HE FUCKING DONE! HE'S KILLED HER. He's.. Killed... her.." His fingers only tightened, until the last breath was squeezed out of the older man.

His mother, his father... Itachi...

Now, he was alone.


End file.
